


Knit Me Baby One More Time

by ElvenAce



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is a Smidge Paranoid, Fluff, M/M, Really Ridiculously Fluffy Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenAce/pseuds/ElvenAce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles takes up a new hobby, and nearly gives poor Erik a heart attack in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knit Me Baby One More Time

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the terrible, terrible, awful pun in the title. I couldn't resist.
> 
> Also apologies for writing this instead of the next chapter of my WIP. Much like the pun, I too am terrible and awful.

To say that Erik Lehnsherr was fastidious about security may be a little of an understatement. It was, as he had insisted to Charles on many an occasion, an utter necessity; even out in the middle of the countryside on a large private estate, one could never be too careful when protecting one’s home, especially if the aforementioned home was currently occupied by multiple highly-powered mutants. Charles had eventually capitulated (Erik suspected this was more to do with Charles wanting Erik to stop hassling him about it rather than an indication that he actually agreed), and so Erik made a sweep of the house and grounds before they settled in for their customary chess match each night.

Erik was just rounding the final corner of his approach back to the house when he felt the unfamiliar metal from somewhere inside. He couldn’t quite make out the shapes of it from this distance, but he could feel its movement, a rapid twisting motion in a pattern he couldn’t quite discern. He felt his body speeding up before he had even had time to think about what it might be; all he knew was that everyone should be in bed by this point, and therefore any metal moving around was an anomaly. Erik was not one to ignore an anomaly.

He managed to maintain at least a semblance of calm until he reached out once again and felt the familiar thrum of Charles’ watch just next to the still-moving metal. He broke into a full-on sprint, his normally graceful gait in tatters as he almost skidded sideways into the doorframe of the main door in his haste. His mind was filled of images of Charles falling victim to whatever the hell was in his room – a bomb perhaps? It wasn’t like any explosives Erik had ever felt before, but the regular movement of what he could now ascertain to be two metal cylinders suggested some form of mechanical object. Could bombs have mechanical workings? He certainly wasn’t about to take the risk that they could, especially not with Charles’ life on the line like this.

He nearly reached out with his powers to crush the metal into a useless ball as he hurtled through the seemingly endless corridors, and _why did this mansion have to be so bloody massive?_ , but he couldn’t take the risk that his actions would just make things worse. What if he managed to trip something and cause it to explode prematurely? What would happen to Charles then? And it would be all Erik’s fault…

He was leaping up the stairs two at a time now, hitting the landing at a full-on sprint as he pitched desperately towards Charles’ study. He almost failed to slow himself in time to turn, his feet sliding out from underneath him a little as he burst through the door, terrified that he might already be too late to stop whatever was about to happen.

“Hello darling! Goodness, you’re a little flushed, did you run all the way here?” Charles said brightly from his customary armchair by the fireplace.

Everything seemed just as it always was – chessboard already set up, a tumbler of scotch sitting on the side-table by Charles’ arm, the fire already crackling and casting a warm glow over the room. Erik scanned the room so desperately for the source of his terror that he almost entirely missed the ball of soft-looking pink wool sitting on Charles’ lap, and next to it… Two metal cylinders. Narrow, pointed at the end, and most definitely knitting needles. Erik didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so instead compromised by collapsing into his own armchair with far less than his customary grace, then leaning over to snag Charles’ drink off the table and downing it in one gulp.

“Erik? Erik, love, are you alright?”

Charles’ concerned voice cut through the thick fog of mixed relief and anger at his own idiocy that was clouding his mind.

“I may have…” Erik coughed, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed about the whole thing. “I may have possibly… Over-reacted slightly. To the, uh…” He gestured vaguely at the highly inoffensive knitting needles that had been the source of such consternation for him. “Knitting needle… metal… moving… things,” he finished lamely, feeling the hot blush creeping up his neck and across his face.

Erik wasn’t accustomed to feeling embarrassed, and found that he wasn’t much of a fan of the sensation. Anger, fear, determination, even happiness nowadays, those were emotions he could deal with; the prickling humiliation spreading up his spine and settling in his stomach were new, and it made him feel far more like an awkward teenager than he liked.

Charles was uncharacteristically silent in response to his admission, and eventually Erik’s curiosity won out over his embarrassment. He expected to see judgement in Charles’ eyes, or even worse, pity, but when he met Charles’ gaze all he saw was a mixture of fondness and amusement. Charles’ eyes were crinkled up slightly at the corners, the way they only did around Erik, and their vibrant blue was both softened and intensified by the firelight that played over his features. Erik felt his own expression soften in response, and he relaxed back into his chair, the adrenaline that had been pounding through his bloodstream suddenly abandoning him now that the supposed danger had passed.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Charles informed him solemnly as he tucked the offending needles and wool away under his chair, “but I suppose I rather overlooked the obviously flaw in that plan.”

“A surprise?” Erik hated surprises, but with Charles around they had become something of a common occurrence. When they tended to take the form of unexpected makeout sessions against a tree while the others were training, Erik’s complaints had lessened quite considerably.

“For Christmas, actually, or I suppose Hanukkah in your case. You always wear the same black turtlenecks - not that I’m complaining, they look simply smashing on you,” he added hastily at Erik’s rather affronted look (Erik _liked_ his turtlenecks, thank you very much), “but I thought that maybe you might like something a little different.”

Charles reached back under his chair to pull out what did, in fact, appear to be a knitted pink turtleneck. Or at least, it was trying very hard to be a turtleneck, but it more closely resembled a large, shapeless magenta blob with sleeves and… yes, that was a pattern in the shape of little purple magnets decorating the hem.

Charles clearly felt Erik’s startled bemusement fading into barely supressed hilarity at the sight, and sighed a little huffily.

“I’ve never knitted before, and it’s harder than it looks! The wool keeps getting all tangled and I’ve still not quite worked out how to pick up the stitches that I dropped but I think I made do. I’ve got three PhDs but I still can’t work out how to stop the wool from going all funny…”

Charles’ monologue was cut off quite effectively by Erik kissing him square on the mouth, but judging by his happy sigh, he didn’t seem to mind the interruption too much. The kiss stretched out for several more moments until they were both smiling too widely to continue. Erik dropped back into his armchair, feeling a little giddy with the feel of Charles’ mouth against his own, still a novelty even after several months. Charles smiled brightly at him and he felt his heart clench in his chest with the enormity of what he felt for the ridiculous, beautiful man in front of him. The words he’d been wanting to say for weeks now were right at the tip of his tongue, and he had just gathered the courage to finally tell Charles how he felt when Charles’ voice piped up from the other side of the table.

“Ooh, I know! I’ll make everyone Christmas jumpers! Wouldn’t that be adorable Erik? I’ll make sure to include a little reference to everyone’s mutations on them so we know which one belongs to who – little megaphones for Sean maybe? Although feet might look a trifle odd on Hank’s – maybe I could do little brains instead? And maybe a scale pattern on Raven’s…”

Erik only half-listened to Charles’ excited ramblings about wool colours and knitting patterns and whether or not it would be feasible to make that many jumpers in time for Christmas, content to simply watch Charles’ expressions as he talked. Erik would wear as many terribly-knitted jumpers as he was given if it meant making Charles happy. Plus, magenta always  _was_ his colour.


End file.
